Jump

      So there I was at 4,500 feet looking out the open doorway of a plane, staring at the ground far below, and I thought, This might not be a good idea.
       Of course, that was a long time ago, back when I was in college. I worked for the college newspaper, and my editor had assigned to me to write a story about the ROTC. During the writing of that story, I discovered that they were taking parachute training. And then one of them -- someone who hated student journalists -- suggested I try it, and lo and behold, I agreed because I wasn't smart.
      They had a training tower that we jumped off first. You jump, and then these cords would catch you and that was supposed to help you learn how to keep your knees bent. That way if you hit the ground too fast, your legs wouldn't break -- well, they would break, but the impact wouldn't drive the broken bones into your body. Yes, they explained all this to us; I said I wasn't smart.
      I jumped five times off the tower. Supposedly that prepared us for the real thing. It was all unreal to me.
      Two days later, we heard a lecture about our chutes. We didn't pack our chutes, of course. Later I was to learn that proper packing is the single most important factor in having a successful jump, but these chutes were packed by some government contractor for the lowest bid. They were drop chutes, meant to get troops on the ground as fast as possible. No leisurely swinging above the earth. Just a quick drop to give enemy snipers less time to fill you full of holes.
      The next Saturday, I drove out to the airport. I hadn't eaten breakfast because I was afraid I would throw up in the plane. I felt light-headed. The newspaper photographer who was supposed to go along and take photos didn't show. So the only photo I have is one that a ROTC cadet took. Perhaps the color has simply changed after all this time, but I look green in the photo even though it's a black and white shot.
      A few minutes later, I stepped up into the plane. A grim sergeant checked my chute and harness. He made some joke about making sure my jewels were out of the way. I wouldn't realize what he was talking about until the next day. Thankfully they were or I would have painfully had that realization sooner.
       We had to wait for someone to arrive so I had time to think about the jump. I nearly got up and left, but the plane started rolling and then we were in the air, my stomach dropping to my feet.
      As we rose to jump attitude, I thought about my parents and how they didn't know what I was doing and wouldn't it be terrible to get a phone call saying I hadn't survived and they wouldn't ever forgive me, and then I almost backed out, but everyone was standing up and an officer was attaching our clips to a bar above us and guys were walking to the open doorway and jumping out. A guy that was two places in front of me balked at the door. I couldn’t hear was what said, but the officer at the door "helped" him jump. And then I was at the door, looking at the ground, thinking what a bad idea the whole thing was.
      I don't know if I was pushed or not. I don't remember deciding to jump, but I was away from the plane and falling. The parachute deployed. Thirty seconds or so later, I was on the ground. I kept my knees bend, but fell over anyway. I lay there on the ground until the chute started to pull me. Two of the officers came over and helped keep me from blowing away.
      We were supposed to roll up our chutes, but I did such a lousy job with mine that the sergeant took it away from me and told me that I was lucky I wasn't in ROTC. I agreed fervently. He didn't seem to like me agreeing with him.
      I rode back to the airport in an old Chevy pick-up, seven of the cadets in the truck bed talking about it and how we felt. Lots of male bravado and swearing. Except for the kid who had to be "helped" out the door. He rode on the tailgate, looking up at the sky silently.
      I've been asked why I jumped. Don't have an answer. Everyone else was. I didn't think about it. Why not? You only live once. I was young and immortal. Could be all of those. Or it would be none of them. But sometimes I remember that feeling of looking at the ground and knowing that all I had to do was step off into space and fly.